<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Safe Haven by Su_Whisterfield</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534395">Safe Haven</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Su_Whisterfield/pseuds/Su_Whisterfield'>Su_Whisterfield</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>X-Men (Comicverse)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:07:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>930</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534395</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Su_Whisterfield/pseuds/Su_Whisterfield</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little post-coital introspection on Krakoa and on being a mutant.</p><p>Only rated mature for Logan’s language, as usual, there’s nothing explicit. Sorry.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Logan/Kurt Wagner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Safe Haven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There’s a preview up for Immortal She-Hulk 1 and, as I’m not getting any Kurt content from current Marvel canon, of course, it got me thinking.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I comb my hands through my lover’s soft fur, run them down his back, he’s all but purring, relaxed and sated. That was good. He’s good.</p><p>“Mm...”<br/>
“That nice?”<br/>
“Mmm.” He snuggles against me, but after a minute, he stirs, sits up a little. “Sorry, <i>schatz</i>, I need the bathroom.” He slides off me, so graceful, so damn beautiful.<br/>
Safe here, happy here. I remember this afternoon.<br/>
“I saw Jen today.” I call.<br/>
“Jen?”<br/>
“You know, Jen, Jennifer, eight foot tall, green.”<br/>
“Oh, Jen!” He comes out of the bathroom. He lobs a warm, damp, hand towel at my head, I catch it before it hits me, but get the hint and use it to clean myself up a bit. “<i>Bier</i>?”<br/>
“Whadda ya’ think?” Daft question, hot sex, cold beer, I’m a man of simple needs.<br/>
And it’s a lovely view as he sways across his habitat and returns with a couple of brews. He takes the soggy hand towel back into the bathroom, neat freak that he is. </p><p>Freak.<br/>
He’s just so different, you forget, you get used to the strange hands, weird feet, those striking eyes, the colour, the shadows, the fur, the tail. Different. Weird. Strange. Mutant.<br/>
Safe. He’s safe here. But he should be safe anywhere, everywhere, damn it.</p><p>“How is she?” his softly accented voice breaks my train of thought.<br/>
“Huh?”<br/>
“Jen, how is she?”<br/>
“Good, she’s good.” He tilts his head, he’s very perceptive and he knows me very well, he’s waiting for me to say what’s actually on my mind. “Went for a beer with her after nailing what’s his name? Tantrum?”<br/>
He leans against the door frame, completely comfortable with his nudity, with how different he is.<br/>
Mutant. Different. Always. Always different.</p><p>But he’s aware of my scrutiny, like I said, perceptive.<br/>
“You should have brought her here, to Krakoa. We haven’t seen her for ages.”<br/>
I nearly choke on my beer. “Here?”<br/>
“Yes, whyever not?” He regards me. He’s fishing, he knows I want to talk about something, he knows it’s hard for me.<br/>
“I dunno... ‘cos it’s ours?” The gold eyes blink at me. Gold, glowing. Unique. Mutant. “Krakoa, it’s ours, it’s safe. You’re safe here.”<br/>
“Jen’s not a threat, Logan.”<br/>
He’s right, of course he is. Jen has been a good friend, like Carol, like one or two others, but most?  Most superheroes, like The Avengers? They’re pretty good at ignoring our problems. At ignoring us when we need them to see. To see what we go through. What he goes through. Him and those like him, those who can’t pass, can’t pass for human.<br/>
He comes back over to the bed, sits beside me. I run my free hand down his arm, through soft, short velvet fur of cerulean blue.<br/>
“Safe, darlin’, we need somewhere safe.”<br/>
“Somewhere for freaks like me?” Sometimes I wish he was less fuckin’ perceptive. See, me, I can pass, animal that I am. I still look human. Jeannie, Slim, Bobby, Kitty, Frost, Chuck, hell ‘Ro, even with her spectacular hair, she looks like a supermodel. Oh, I’m not sayin’ any of us have had an easy time of it. Look at poor, pretty Anna-Marie, all those years spent not able to touch anyone. Jeannie, all those other people’s thoughts. Hell, even Slim. No, not easy.<br/>
But. But we can walk down the street without people running away and screaming. Or chasing us. With pitchforks. Literally.<br/>
Soft gold eyes on my face, he bends in and we share a beery kiss. He crawls onto my lap and I forget all about Jen and mutant politics for a while.</p><p>He’s back to using me as a pillow, he likes that. I like that. Most of all, I like that he likes that.<br/>
“You’re right.”<br/>
“Huh.”<br/>
“About needing Krakoa to be ours.” He curls a chest hair around his finger. I’m not used to being right, he’s real smart, he can think rings around me. “Not everyone is as fortunate as me.” Chased with pitchforks. Literally.<br/>
“Fortunate?” I stroked that unique fur, that unique body.<br/>
“Of course I’m fortunate.” He looks up at me. “Charles saved my life, after I killed Stefan, when I was willing to die for his sins, to let the mob kill me.” I hold my breath, he never mentions his foster brother, after all these years, that wound is still raw. “He gave me a new life, a new purpose. And I have you, all of you behind me, Charles’ money, world class medical care, training, your protection.” He blinks slowly. “Not just you. All of you.”<br/>
I kinda get what he means now. Having the X-Men at your back is pretty reassuring. An’ it’s a privilege not every mutant has. Not every freak. But even so, the mob, the fire, the pitchforks.<br/>
“I still think you should have brought Jen here,” he continues. “I’m not sure cutting ourselves off from friends adds to our safety. But first and foremost we need to provide protection for all those not as lucky as us, we need to find them, we need to make sure all this works, for them. We can build bridges with our friends, our allies, later.” He rests his his chin on his folded hands and looks into my face.<br/>
“We do, darlin’, we will.”<br/>
“Good.” He settles further, with a little yawn. I go back to stroking that unique, beautiful, mutant fur. </p><p>We will, Elf, I promise, a safe haven for them all, it ain’t gonna be easy, it ain’t gonna be perfect, but it’s better than pitchforks.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>